Corporate and Red Mary-Jane

9.30 in the morning,

Thick knowledge in hand, and pouty lips.

The woman in red Mary-Jane, she hates her fate more than

The matching suit that she wore that painful morning.

The green fabric, and the tasteless yellow stripes seem disoriented in her hazy figure.

She asked the starless skies to suffocate her in her sleep the night before,

But we all love her little tiring walk to the cream building in city central,

For we see a glimmer of hope in her sunburnt skin, and a little bit of ourselves inside her demanding soul.

Genesis

Long gone,

Thirty three summers have passed.

The trees echoed your name again.

It's that time where your name is permanently stitched on my lips -

Like a prayer, a spiritual chant, as if it would protect me from death and cavities. 

The thoughts of going away, and intertwined arms underneath the indigo skies of February are present in between my temples all over again.

Discovering paths, rebuilding trust. 

It's quite difficult for us to touch.

I am still listening to the same humidity -

You are still traveling shorelines in humility.

There are still nine million universes inside your eyes.

There are still eighty one reasons for me to live these lies.